


Tales of Troy

by silvercolour



Series: And the rest is history [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale goes on a ten year long camping trip and he hates it, Crowley likes this idea of gender- he’ll take two please, Footnotes, Historical, I should reiterate: ANGST, Multi, Trojan War, War is not nice, bc Crowley was right to change his name, female!Crowley, no violence or character deaths depicted, technically this all happens in Crawly-years but we’re using Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercolour/pseuds/silvercolour
Summary: This story begins with an apple. Many stories seem to do so, and you may even know some versions of this story. It has been written many times before, but has to be written at least once more. This is the story of an apple, the long war that follows, and how a demon and an angel found themselves caught up in it.
Relationships: Crowley/Aziraphale, Helen/Paris
Series: And the rest is history [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592803
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	Tales of Troy

**Author's Note:**

> The art for this story was by the amazingly talented and very sweet Someteainspace and Esmiora(who also created the banner!), and who you should totally look up on tumblr and twitter both!  
> You can find Esmiora  
> [On twitter](https://twitter.com/esmiora)
> 
> And Someteainspace as Elios-art  
> [On Tumblr](https://elios-art.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Extra thanks to Someteainspace for the Greek translation of my opening verse, fulfilling every need my historical nerd heart could wish for.  
> Beta’d by the ineffable and ever-patient Lost-in-the-land-of-stories, who will soon be posting her own big bang fic too so if you like Shakespearean Omens you should totally go look at that!

  
PROLOGUE

Hear now, Reader, This immortal tale

Of intentions good and kind

That paved the way to

A hell ne’er before seen on 

This, God’s creation;

See how Love- 

mortal and immortal both-

Tried to win a War

And failed.

Δή τόν μέν καλών καί ευγενών 

αΐνον άκουε, ω επακρομενε

Έν τοις δε πολλοί εις τους εΐδοντα Άιδον 

μή πώ γε εν τωδε Θεου δημιοργία ήξαμησαν

Καί ορά μεν θνέτη καί αθάνατη φιλότης

Επεχερησε τόν πόλεμον νικαντι

Αλλά τινος ηστόχησε

  
  


One of the few books you will not ever find in A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop in Soho, London, is the Iliad, nor any adaptation thereof. The Odyssey you can find several editions of, some old enough that they might have belonged in a museum. But a man’s journey to find his way home is nothing to be upset about. A war is.

Especially when one has seen that war up close.

This is the story of that war. The story of how the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley found themselves on opposing sides of the war for one small human city. On opposing sides, like always, but united in spirit.

——

1- CROWLEY

It all began with an apple, supposedly.

Crowley has decided he really hates apples. This specific apple he had nothing to do with- hasn’t even seen the bloody thing. If it even existed at all- human writers tend to get rather fanciful like that. It might have just been a bet someone lost, or some story for parents to tell their kids. Crowley doesn’t know.

All he knows is it wasn’t him. And yet here he is, somehow deeper involved than anyone occult ought to be, boarding a ship to a different city- a different land. All in the name of Love- he sneers, and has to struggle not to spit in the water in disgust.

Someone would probably think it bad luck if he did- and Helen would think it unladylike of Crowley. Not that Helen would notice, as she’s currently busy making puppy-eyes at her husband to be, who is making puppy-eyes at her as well. At least they have the decency to not try and morph into one stupid kissing unit, the way some others would have. (Crowley suspects Menelaos would have been One of Those. Crowley firmly believes Helen made the right choice. After all, how could choosing Love be Wrong?)

Crowley had nothing to do with any apples this time- but stories that involve apples tend to also involve a Tempter of some kind. And in this story that tempter is once again Crowley. And again, he does not believe it is a bad thing. Is free will a bad thing? No- just depends what you do with it. Is love a bad thing? Crowley doesn’t think so. Aziraphale keeps telling him when they meet that God loves all her creations.

(Crowley isn’t sure he believes that. After all, She did kick him out, not for inciting rebellion or whatever, like Lucifer and his pals, but just for asking some questions. However, if She really loves that much, than surely She cannot find fault in what he’s been doing these last few days?)

Crowley had been in Sparta for some time when all the foreign ships started to arrive. She’s currently dressed as a maid because the best and most reliable gossip in town could be found at the palace kitchens and washing places. 

“Ships full of suitors,” says an older washerwoman in disgust, “They’ll be nothing but trouble, thinking this is all a big laugh, mark my words.”

The girls surrounding her nod, but as soon as she leaves the gossip flares up again:

“I heard King Agamemnon is coming!”

“Isn’t he already married? He better not be thinking he can take our Lady Helen home as anything other than his first wife!”

“Hasn’t he got brothers? A king’s brother wouldn’t be a bad husband”

“Why bother with a brother, when there are other kings coming as well? I heard Odysseus will be here, Diomedes, and Ajax and oh! So many other heroes...”

A dreamy silence falls as the girls all dream of which hero they would hope to be chosen by, and Crowley uses it to excuse herself from the conversation. The gossip has been like this for some weeks now, where usually it would shift between one subject and the next.

But the big day is finally nigh, Helen the Beautiful will be married to whoever her father decides is most suitable. The suitors are arriving, final preparations are in a frenzy (Crowley fears that one of the cooks might suffer a heart attack if he continues shouting the way he has been through the preparations).

And Beautiful Helen has wandered off once again.

It is Crowley who finds her walking in the orchards that border the gardens, and she feels she should thank... Someone, anyone, maybe even one of the deities these people worship that it is not one of the suitors who found her first. Because Crowley has no doubt that most, or even all of the suitors, would attempt to persuade Helen before the others have had a chance, and that some would even dishonour her so none of the others would be willing to marry the girl.

It is with this low, low opinion of the suitors that Crowley views this mess, and he is surprised. Somehow King Tyndareus of Sparta, Helen’s father, manages to make them all swear an oath to support whoever ends up marrying Helen. Crowley learns only later that this was not Tyndareus’ idea, but Odysseus’, and that explains a lot. He’d been quite surprised that a man clever enough to calm down this mess of fighting men, of heroes and kings- should have been stupid enough to invited them all in the first place.

Helen’s opinion on who her husband should be is not asked. Nor is her mother’s, although her mother Queen Leda makes her opinion clear anyway. None but the very best for her daughter. The men laugh as though it’s a joke and tell her that they are the best. Each of them even seems to believe it.

Crowley has since the ships started arriving made herself Helen’s handmaid (and protector, but no one will know that unless they provoke her). She looks after Helen, and whispers in her ear the things only a handmaid sees. How this or that suitor has been drunk for days, orhas been bothering the palace women, and is -if you’ll pardon her the pun- clearly unsuitable.

Helen listens to Crowley, and becomes noticeably colder to those suitors.

After the oath is sworn Crowley frets, and Helen frets, but Crowley takes care that Helen does not see her concerns. Drawing straws to marry the most beautiful woman any of them shall ever see? It’s madness, stupidity plain and simply- and yet. Somehow the fight that king Tyndareus fears is avoided, by one simple oath. By giving all of the brutes the same chance to win Tyndareus convinces them that they should also swear to protect the winner, and the marriage. All believe they themselves will win.

It is Menelaos who ends up winning Helen’s hand, and Helen seems happy enough with this. Crowley only feels relief, as the outcome could have been much worse. That Crowley does not like Menelaos has nothing to do with the man, simply that he came here to marry Helen is enough for that. In the time he has been here however, Menelaus has done nothing wrong- as far as Crowley knows he has never done much of anything other than be rich. But that is acceptable.

Until it isn’t.

1-AZIRAPHALE

Aziraphale has found himself on a ship, traveling to warlike Sparta, but not for a war (thank God), not yet at least. He is traveling there with the entourage of the Mycenaean King and his brother to avoid a war.

Tyndareus, king of Sparta (a warlike nation, usually not the brightest people), has invited suitors from all the lands to come, so it can be decided who should marry his daughter Helen. His daughter is rumoured to be the most beautiful woman ever to walk this land. Aziraphale doubts this is true, he has seen many beautiful women and several others have tried to claim this title. However, this story, and the likelihood of inheriting a kingdom with this girl is enough to stir many men and heroes from their homes.

For Tyndareus King of Sparta and Leda his queen have only daughters, and no sons to inherit the throne. In looking for a suitor for their daughter, they are now also looking for a son to inherit the land of Sparta. And many are interested.

Rumours flew about who would go, and management Above feared a war, maybe even The War. So Aziraphale had been dispatched to resolve this situation peacefully.

Being in Mycenae at the time he had simply joined their delegation, planning to start the peaceful atmosphere well before they even arrived in Sparta. Unfortunately, this meant traveling there via ship, instead of the faster ways an angel has at their disposal.

In Sparta it is both better and worse than Aziraphale had feared. Better, because no one has killed anyone yet. Worse, because there are far more suitors here than he’d dared dream. Truly everyone from around the seas had arrived in hopes of marrying Helen. All have brought lavish gifts, and all are refused by the Spartan King, who is afraid to favour one guest over the other.

At night in their quarters the Mycenaeans Agamemnon and Menelaus plan and plot. Agamemnon is married, and already has a kingdom of his own. However, he wants Sparta now, wants a kingdom for his brother. His brother cares less about the kingdom he should inherit. Menelaos has fallen in love with Helen the moment he laid eyes on her.

Aziraphale suggests bringing gifts for Helen, and Menelaos agrees- but Agamemnon says (quite correctly) that Tyndareus allows no one near his daughter except when all the suitors are there, for fear of accusations of favouritism. Aziraphale does not suggest that he go in Menelaos’ stead. He could miracle his way in and out without trouble, but he has not been sent on a mission of love. He his here to keep the peace.

By day the suitors talk, and drink, and feast, and try to decide who amongst them should marry the Beautiful Helen, Helen the Great, Zeus’ daughter- they have many names for her. 

One amongst the suitors seems less interested in Helen. When asked, Odysseus tells Aziraphale that he’s just here to trade, and make connections. Aziraphale blinks, and asks: “You are not here to marry Helen at all then?”

Odysseus glances over his shoulder, at Helen seated at the high table next to her father. “Well, perhaps I’m also here to marry. But perhaps there are others than Helen. And I have Ithaca to think of- I have my own lands.”

Aziraphale nods as though he understands this- this most human sentiment. A home, a place that one owns. He does not know if any angel can know such a feeling, but he thinks he might like it- a home.

“If only there was a truly fair way to do all this, something unbiased and-“ he halts. A Look has just crossed Odysseus face. Aziraphale thinks that this Look might have been the beginnings of an Idea, but he is not certain that it would be one he likes.

They end up drawing straws. Aziraphale is conflicted. A truly fair and unbiased solution to be sure, and yet something bothers him. What that is he doesn’t know- it might be the men insisting that Fate after all chose the Best of them when they don’t mean it, it might be Menelaos, the richest among them winning Helen. In hindsight, it might have been a bad feeling about the things yet to come.

/

It is only at the wedding that Aziraphale finally sees Crowley. She’s with Helen’s entourage, and very busy today. Aziraphale wonders how long she has been in Sparta.

That evening at the feast Crowley asks him the same question.

“Why I arrived with the Mycenaeans Crowley! When did you get here?”

Crowley blinks, and sputters, and admits, “I’ve been with Helen since before the suitors arrived- Below had plans apparently...”

She shrugs and swaps the empty carafe of wine for a full one.

“‘M not sure Below’s plans worked out the way they wanted to, but Helen’s happy at least.” She turns away from Aziraphale, and takes the wine to the high table before he can say anything.

“I hope Their plans did not work out, dear,” he says anyway, even though she will not hear him over the raucous wedding festivities around them.

/ 

Years later, when Crowley tries to sleep through the long years of the war while Aziraphale stays awake he thinks back on this wedding feast, and wonders whether perhaps the plans from Below did indeed work out after all.

/

9 YEARS LATER- Crowley

For almost ten years Crowley stays in Sparta. Whenever she asks about this assignment Below there are only chuckles and wicked grins and the words “You’re not done yet.” With increasing desperation Crowley wonders what exactly it is that she’s supposed to be doing. They answer inevitably, unchanged over the past nine years: “jus’ stay with that woman.”

It has been almost ten years since the wedding and Helen is no longer as happy as she once was. She has a daughter now, but no other children, even though Menelaos keeps wishing for a son, for lots of sons.

She is well looked after, Crowley herself makes sure of it. He has become somewhat attached to Helen, and Helen goes nowhere without Herpeia(*) But she is no longer the happy Helen that she was a decade ago. Life, and marriage, are wearing on her, although men still swear she is the most beautiful woman alive.

(*) perhaps not his best choice of name, but he had to come up with something on the fly and then he accidentally stayed a decade. So she is stuck with this name.

She, the most beautiful woman alive, is bored. She has everything she should want, so her other maids remind her. Not Crowley, who tells her it is perfectly alright to want more, after all, where is the fun in accepting your fate? There’s nothing wrong with being a little greedy sometimes, she whispers to Helen.

Helen only ever shakes her head when she hears Herpeia say things like that. It’s not how she was raised, it simply isn’t done- and besides, does she not have everything? A daughter she adores (everyone who meets the girl, named Hermione, adores her, she is a ray of sunshine), more jewels and dresses than she can wear out in a lifetime, whatever food she wants, a kind husband-

Here her thoughts falter for a second. You mustn’t blame her for this, but you mustn’t blame him for it either. Marriages are not meant to be decided by the drawing of straws. They are kind enough to each other, certainly more than civil. But Helen can tell her husband wishes for a son, and heir to talk war with, and who he could teach about the ways of battle.

Instead Menelaos becomes more and more obsessed with his hunting dogs, spending more time out of the palace or on state business than he ever does with Helen. He is still kind, she thinks, and she is sure he loves her but…

A sigh escapes her lips. None of her women remark on it, they are used to their queen’s melancholy moods. Only Herpeia still gives her a look of concern. Helen would almost call it a motherly concern, but for the fact that they are of similar age.

/

Aziraphale visits a few times, while he is traveling. Above has given him orders to stay with the Mycenaeans, in just as vague terms as Below has. When he visits they talk, through the nights when the humans are asleep, while they pretend they don’t know each other by day.

It is Aziraphale who brings up the story of the apple, almost accusing Crowley, who swears up and down that this time- just this time angel- he had nothing to do with any apples.

“I don’t know where they get their stories of gods angel, gotta be some of your people, but it sure as Hell wasn’t me- an’ let’s face it, no human would confuse a demon for a god.”

Aziraphale has to admit he’s got a point there. “Although the whole “choosing a poor honest shepherd to make the choice” does sound like something we would do- I did check with above and it really wasn’t us either.”

For a while they both ponder the implications of this, and the wine, and the night passes like any other.

Azirahale has left some months ago, when Crowley is reminded of the story of the apple. ‘For the most beautiful’- the alleged words written on the maybe-exists-maybe-not apple.

“For the most beautiful Helen” the words spoken by the youngest son of a faraway land. And Crowley, who sits behind and beside Helen, cannot see her face, but he does not need to.

He practically feels the love the two radiate - actual love at first sight, Crowley would scoff if she were not a lady, and was not at an official banquet.

The two do nothing but stare at each other all evening, and every meeting afterwards. How none of the humans notice is quite beyond Crowley, but he truly seems to be the only one who does. None of Helen’s ladies notice, not her husband, nor the Trojan delegation. Crowley isn’t even sure Helen and Paris have truly noticed what they are doing.

Then one evening, the evening before the delegation is set to leave, the young prince comes to the women’s quarters. This is absolutely unheard of, and would see him killed if he were caught here. Menelaos may be kind to Helen, but he is equally possessive of her.

It is Crowley who makes sure no one notices the boy, who nudges the guards to walk a different route and the women to fall asleep a little earlier. It is Crowley alone who hears their confessions of love, who hears the tears Helen sheds knowing that Paris is to leave.

Crowley hears him beg Helen to join him, and this is when she rushes into the room. Helen and Paris stand in close embrace (quite scandalous, they all know it, but Crowley does not point it out), and both look terrified thinking they have just been discovered.

Now, Crowley, being a demon, does not care much for doing the right thing. He does not particularly care for doing the “wrong thing” either, it’s just that he thinks humans ought to have a choice. Otherwise they are no better than animals, always doing the one thing they’re made for and nothing else.

A previous apple comes to mind.

Crowley approaches the two softly, as though they are wild animals who would startle away, and tells her queen, “My lady, forgive me for coming in unannounced but- for years I have seen you grow sad in this palace, for years and years you have wondered,'' Is this all?”- I know you haven’t asked it out loud, but the questions was there in your eyes.”

Herpeia smiles a smile that Helen can only describe as sad.

“I think this is the gods’ way of saying No, that is not all, there is more for you in store Helen.”

Helen looks at that sad smile, and hears what the woman she has known for so many years is trying to tell her, and she smiles through her tears.

/

Late that night Helen asked Crowley (Herpeia) to join her in Troy. Crowley can see in her eyes that she’s prepared arguments, is prepared to beg even it seems- but she has orders. So the moment Helen asks Herpeia to abandon “their” homeland together Crowley says yes. Helen seems most relieved.

This is how Crowley finds herself stuck on a ship for the longest time. Humanity really should invent a faster way to travel- traveling with these boats is entirely too reliant on weather and circumstances (or as the humans put it “the gods’ will”). 

Crowley has never liked boats, he prefers flying (when he has wings) and otherwise would very much like to keep whatever extremities his current form has on solid ground thank you very much. Boats specifically he has disliked ever since Noah tried to build one to “save humanity” and forgot to take most of humanity and quite a few species of animals in the process. (To be fair to Noah: God made him leave behind most of humanity, only the unicorns and the other forgotten animals were his fault. But as Crowley knows from experience: one could choose to Not Listen to Her. Noah could’ve at least tried a little harder.)

This is Crowley’s mood for most of their voyage, although she tries to be somewhat more cheerful around Helen. Helen herself barely notices her handmaid's moods, she is enamoured. Now that the choice to leave home and family has been made she will not look back, instead looking forward to her new life, with her Paris.

/

Their reception in Troy is...mixed, to say the least. The people seem happy enough that their young prince has brought home a beautiful wife. They ask no questions.

The questions start as soon as they reach the palace. They aren’t asked in public, no: in public king Priam welcomes his son back, and though surprised equally welcomes back his son’s new bride.

In private, later that evening, he asks many questions, most of them beginning with why?

Why did you steal another man’s wife? 

Why did it have to be Helen, who is married to Menelaos, whose brother is Agamemnon, who are neither of them patient or forgiving?

The queen asks Helen: why did you seduce my son?

And somehow that is more upsetting to Paris than any angry question his father has asked so far-

There is shouting, and in the end it is Helen who stops the argument. She has been thinking all this time and knows what she cannot say:

I doubted - I knew it was not wise - I know who Menelaos is and what he and his brother are like; I know this better than any of you - why your son Madam? Better to ask why me: it was he who did the seducing, all I did was fall-

What she says instead is the only certainty, the only truth she knows: 

“ I followed your son because I love him, your majesties.”

She speaks these words so calmly, so quietly that it breaks up their argument, and the rock solid, unshakeable certainty in her quiet voice leaves them speechless.

Queen Hecuba thinks then of her own marriage- not cold, not unhappy, but arranged for her before she was old enough to run, to a man she wouldn’t meet until her wedding day.

King Priam thinks of his marriage, of his wife, who is beautiful, and strong willed, and a good queen. His wife who would never say those words with such conviction as the stranger his son has brought home.

Paris can hardly think, the slow smile spreading across his face speaking of all the love he holds for his Helen. His smile speaks louder than any argument he could have made, and his parents see this argument. They acquiesce. Helen may stay in Troy.

/

When things go wrong, Aziraphale barely notices at first. When things start going downhill it becomes hard not to notice however.

He is, per his orders, still in Mycenae, and had been trying to help the cook think of interesting new dishes, as the queen had complained that the food was boring.

But when things go downhill, they go downhill _fast._

Helen kidnapped, Helen ran away from home, Helen seduced away from the king’s brother- the palace is abuzz with rumours. Not willing to listen to gossips (it simply isn’t right to do so) Aziraphale makes his way to the king’s rooms (the guards at the door try to stop him, so he has to miracle his way in).

Inside Agamemnon is enraged on his brother’s behalf, and already planning a military expedition to Troy. Aziraphale learns that the rumours seem to be true: a young Trojan prince really has convinced Helen to leave her husband and her city.

And Agamemnon, bored at home, bored with his wife, and his lovely children, and his boring peaceful city- Agamemnon wants war.

And he’ll have one too because Aziraphale is under orders to watch, and not interfere. And although he agrees it isn’t right to simply steal another’s wife, Aziraphale rather thinks this war is a bit much.

Especially once they take ship to Sparta (Aziraphale likes ships, there’s not much to do on them and he can stare at the sea for hours) and _especially_ when Agamemnon starts talking about getting the other sworn suitors involved.

He’s already sent letters, Agamemnon says, and while his brother nods Aziraphale pales. This man’s mind is quite made up, and to stop so many letters would take a miracle of such magnitude that Gabriel might keep him in heaven for the next millennium… And his orders are to not interfere, only to observe.

Sometimes Aziraphale wishes he were more like Crowley- the thought stops him. Not for its almost blasphemous nature, although there is that. What stops him is the fact that he remembers -entirely too late- that Crowley was here, in Sparta. Where he is no longer- Aziraphale knows, would have felt it if Crowley was anywhere near.

So Crowley must be with Helen- 

Crowley must be the reason why Helen has-

Aziraphale does not want to think it but his mind has run away from him. Crowley, the cause of so much unrest, the cause of this whole cursed war if no one can stop it from happening- and Aziraphale cannot. His hands are tied.

Or are they?

Perhaps he cannot interfere, but he may be able to help, just by observing, as it were. He remembers his meeting with Odysseus, years ago. He might not like the man (heavens, that man is the reason the suitors all drew lots, the very reason they swore an oath to protect the one who marries Helen), but Odysseus dislikes war, of that Aziraphale is certain.

By making sure kings Agamemnon and Menelaos collect Odysseus _first_ of all the suitors, perhaps the worst fates can be avoided.

So Aziraphale observes out loud: ‘It would be useful to have Odysseus join us first, he is clever and will certainly be able to convince and stragglers to join the cause right away.”

And miraculously, neither king questions the words of this strange man. Meneloas assumes he is a confidante of his brother’s, while Agamemnon barely needs a nudge to assume this man who has travelled with him from Mycenae has been his advisor all along.

Now, being a king’s advisor does not constitute “just observing” and is basically the opposite of “not interfering”. But Aziraphale pays these nagging doubts no mind, and assumes these kings will forget him soon enough.

They do not, and in the years to come he regrets the choices he made this evening greatly.

These regrets start the morning they are to set sail for Ithaca where Odysseus lives, when he receives a message from above, delivered by possibly the grumpiest cherub Aziraphale has ever met. He has received a warning, and new orders:

The letter tells him to not go against his orders again- and then changes his orders to continue doing what he has been since a few days ago: nudging the Greek leaders to work together, to make sure they all get to Troy and participate in this war.

The cherub has vanished right away, but as the letter falls from Aziraphale’s hand it too vanishes. Like the order is secret, and must not be known by others. Certainly a protection against human prying eyes, or even demon eyes but…

Aziraphale feels uncomfortable; not just with his new mission, but with the secrecy that seems to surround it.

/

It takes a surprisingly long time to gather all the Greek war leaders, and though it is not in Aziraphale's nature to be impatient, he rather wishes they would at least get a move on. The whole business is unpleasant enough as it is, and the sooner it all gets resolved the better. Odysseus in particular is showing some bad form, Aziraphale thinks. For the person who thought up this entire mess of a plan, whose very idea is making all these men go to war, Odysseus seems very reluctant to leave his island and his wife and son. 

The years since Aziraphale has last seen Odysseus are marked clearer on his face than Aziraphale thinks they should be. This land might be his home, but Ithaca is not the richest of the Greek lands, neither in wealth nor in soil. Last they spoke, nine years ago, Odysseus talked of his home - his Ithaca. Seeing that land now Aziraphale still does not completely understand the sentiment, but he certainly feels Odysseus’ love for it. Time and the land have marked him, but he seems all the more protective because of it.

Showing equally bad form in resisting the Grand Plan of the Greeks is Achilles. Aziraphale could have told them where the boy might be found. And he is still a boy, seems so young, even if Aziraphale has seen him when younger- it’s amazing how time treats every human differently.

Aziraphale could even have simply miracled the boy back into his own chambers instead of the womens’ part of the house where he was hiding. He could have, only it seemed wrong to miracle someone against their will when they have done nothing wrong besides hiding and making Aziraphale impatient. That hardly constitutes a sin… Not for the first time since Helen left Menelaos Aziraphale finds himself thinking of Crowley.

When last he saw her she was still in Sparta, and all this was a distant possibility no one liked to think about, a vow made to avoid bloodshed, not to cause it. If he were Crowley, or is Crowley were here now, or if he was not an angel-

Aziraphale shakes his head. No, these thoughts aren’t helping. He is an angel, Crowley is not here (much though Aziraphale might wish otherwise), and all he can do for these humans is his best, to help them go to war fast, and to help them stop this war even faster. Preferably still without being seen to be interfering- Aziraphale does remember his orders, even if he does not like them. 

/ 

He changed his mind. This has to stop, he’s not even sure these Greeks are still sane- she was just a little girl! He could have miracled wind for them, at least a little bit, or prayed to Her to change the winds for them, he could have done something- surely something, anything- he has orders, Aziraphale knows it, truly, but this cannot stand, he cannot simply let them follow some idiot priest’s prediction or oracle's drunken words to sacrifice a little girl...

He also cannot change the past. What is done is done, much as he may dislike it.

As the Greeks start loading up their ships, as the winds start to turn in their favour Aziraphale can do nothing but sit there on the beach in silence. He has orders, and he’ll stick with them but-

For the first time he finds himself wondering at the cost. The cost of this war the Greeks plan to wage, the lives that will undoubtedly be lost, on both sides. “A life already has been lost, and her name was Iphigenia,” an angry voice that maybe sounds almost like Crowley’s whispers in the back of his mind. Another voice responds: “All wars cost lives, and humans live such short lives anyway-” almost like Gabriel, although Aziraphale barely dares name it that even in his thoughts.

Yes, he thinks, at both of these voices inside of him, yeah, they live short lives, and the war has already begun to claim them, even before they arrive at the city. But should that not mean that he ought to try harder, that these humans ought to try to be better? Does that mean they should simply give up, and wait for war or death or both to claim them?

He does not know. Aziraphale is not used to asking questions, not of life, not of himself. Worse than that, he finds he is not used to not knowing the answers. How Crowley does it, that never-ending stream of questions of his, Aziraphale cannot comprehend.

He is still sitting on the beach when Agamemnon sends boy to find him- the ships are packed, they are ready to sail, and Aziraphale is ordered to board his ship.

Once aboard he finds several of the Greek leaders also aboard Agamemnon’s ship as they set sail: his brother Menelaos of course, Achilles and an apparent confidant of his, and a giant of a man called Ajax. There are others there, whose names now escape Aziraphale on the winds that are turning, and taking them Troy. Also there is Odysseus, who looks more displeased than usual to be here. He takes one look at Aziraphale, still covered in the sand from the beach that is sinking away in the distance and nods in a grim understanding. Perhaps, Aziraphale thinks, he is not the only one who has his doubts about the costs of this war. And Aziraphale begins to understand why Odysseus might not have wanted to leave Ithaca.

/

All days dawn the same, regardless of the events that will unfold during their hours, and the day the Greek ships arrive on the Trojan shore is no different. While the first parties make land and the first messengers are sent up to the city demanding Helen returned, and Paris delivered alongside her for his “punishment”. What they mean is his death- they cannot mean anything else, but it would be both rude and foolish to say so outright. Odysseus, sent as diplomat and messenger, is neither of these things.

King Priam’s face grows red, while Paris’ becomes pale, but it is queen Hecuba who speaks: “We know why you Greeks have come, what you would ask; You ask that we send away our son, and his wife, whom we have both welcomed into our city, and into our homes and arms. We did not turn them away when first they arrived together, when first our son presented his wife to us, standing where you stand now to demand his death. What makes you think we will surrender our own now?”

Crowley is not there to see this conversation unfold. She is standing on the city walls with Helen, watching as the ships spill more and more men onto the beaches, watching as the tiny distant figures of men grow into a mass of tents and beached boats and preparations for war. They have seen Odysseus and the messengers arrive, and they are now watching as the messengers leave, escorted through the streets by armed guards.

From their silent position high on the walls they see the people of Troy notice the messengers, and they see people starting towards their homes. They are not rushed, not yet, but mothers call their playing children inside, check their stores and make busy, trying to prepare for an unpredictable future. The city prepares itself.

As they leave the walls and move back to the palace Helen stays silent, although Crowley cannot help but think she looks resigned. Helen remains silent when they reach the palace, where every available space seems taken by men arming themselves, dogs barking, and too many people at once busy with too many tasks at once.

She stays silent until Paris finds them, who folds his arms around Helen and does not let go until he has finished his story of what happened in the throne room. Keeping a respectful distance, Crowley can still see the tears that always threaten to fall from her eyes but are held in check. Helen nods, and tells Paris she will ready his armour, and embraces him in return.

It is not until after she and Crowley reach her chambers that Helen lets the tears fall. Crowley has known her for many years, but rarely had Helen ever shed a tear in all that time. Crowley- Herpeia does what she can for her mistress, but how do you console someone when their past actions have just caused a war? She cannot offer to turn back time (both would not offer and could not achieve it, but that it besides the point), and saying that it was not Helen’s fault only would only sound like blaming queen Hecuba. It would sound like blaming Menelaos for being upset his wife left him (he is not completely wrong in this, but Helen also was not wrong to leave in Crowley’s not so humble opinion). It would sound like blaming Agamemnon for being a warmonger (quite correctly, although the stupid vow that gave him cause was not Agamemnon’s idea).

Herpeia settles for patting her mistress’ hands and after a while moving to brush Helen’s hair, saying only that it cannot possibly be her fault alone, war is the business of men. It does not feel like enough, and does not console Helen the way Herpeia wishes it would, but it’s something.

/

Like each day dawning the same, so every day will end eventually, although the day’s events may make each evening feel different. That morning, standing on the walls, Crowley saw many men stake out their space on the beach, saw tents and horses and supplies. And she saw- or perhaps felt might be more accurate- one familiar angel, hair white blonde and clearly visible between sun-tanned Greek men if one knew where to look.

There’s barely any effort involved for Crowley to distract the guards long enough to leave the city, although the walk down from the city to the beach makes her wish she had worn something other than a dress this evening. She exerts a little more effort to distract the Greek guards, who are less easily convinced that woman appearing in the night from the direction of the city has any right to enter the camp.

Finding the right tent takes less effort but more time, as Aziraphale seems to have secured a place close to the tents of some of the other commanders, deep inside the camp. Crowley does her best not to think about what that might mean.

Simply walking in unannounced, she startles Aziraphale

“What’re you doing with these Greeks still, Aziraphale? Never figured war was much your style-“

Aziraphale makes a face at that “it really is not, but I’m under orders… still”

“Still? These are the same orders from back in Sparta? Damnation, that’s a longer ploy than your lot usually pulls, isn’t it?”

The face Aziraphale was pulling morphs into indignation “I’m not at liberty to discuss any of our plans with the Enemy, long or short, you are well aware of that I’m sure, Crowley,-“

“Can’t hurt to ask,” Crowley mumbles.

Aziraphale continues as though he did not hear “-and even if I were I might not like to discuss them, have you considered that?”

Someone with very sharp ears might have heard a pin drop just then, if the floor of the tent had been even remotely hard enough to do anything other than absorb the sounds of dropping pins.

Quietly, Crowley asks: “they’re not very nice plans then? No- don’t say it, I know you can’t tell me, just…” She trails off as Aziraphale nods.

Crowley stares at the angel who does not like the Not Very Nice plans that have brought him to this army encampment and nods back.

Out loud, she says only: “Well, whatever the plans are, it seemed rude visit empty-handed, so...” and she produces a flask of wine. His particular flask has very (very) recently gone missing from the king’s own stores, but that will not be noticed for a long time. So for the first time there, at the beaches before Troy, but not the last by any means, Crowley and Aziraphale drink together.

//

Much happens in the intervening years, and yet nothing at all seems to be moving. Sometimes the Greeks follow their Mycenaean leaders out of their camp, sometimes the Trojans attempt to leave the city (they are always stopped, no one is allowed to leave- but when they leave their city to fight the Greeks seem happier about this than when it is civilians attempting to flee. Aziraphale does not blame them for this). 

In the intervening years, and for the first time almost since creation, Aziraphale dearly wishes he could go against orders, wishes that he would, even sometimes that he had been made differently- 

Before settling back into his tent and-

Well…

He does not want to say he gets drunk on purpose, but in these last years he has definitely acquired a taste for alcohol. There seems to be little else to do. Al this is ineffable, must be-has to be, everything is. But then why does it feel so very wrong to not take action?

He has never been much of an angel of action, even guardian Eden's East Gate- he has always been happy to believe in The Plan, Her Plan… but when he looks around himself, around the city at the death, the suffering, the despair, even just the plain unhappiness of the soldiers who are bored and thought they'd be home by now, at those times he wishes he could just… miracle it all away for them. Make things better, make everyone happy. It would mean going against direct orders- and worse! Going against The Plan. So Aziraphale contains himself, drinks, visits Crowley up in the city, is in turn visited by Crowley, and together they drink and do nothing.

/

AGAIN NINE YEARS (and a bit) LATER

Ten years.

Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting in Aziraphale’s tent in the Greek encampment, drinking and trying not to think too much about what is going on outside the tent- inside the walls of Troy, city of horses and stolen princesses.

Ten years is a long time for any human, a very long time for war. It is even a long time for immortal beings like Aziraphale and Crowley, especially if the stupid humans and their blessed war refuse to make peace. The Trojans (obviously) have nowhere to go, except try and escape the city.

The Greeks think that anyone who leaves Troy is either a spy or a soldier or both. They are right about this only in about 60 percent of the cases, Aziraphale guesstimates. This percentage would be higher were it not for the fact that a certain angel and a certain demon have been leaving and entering the city more times than one can count throughout the long, long years of this war.

Both of them have tried to convince their respective “leaders”(*) from the start that this was a terrible idea.

* “leaders”, not Leaders, not Above or Below, just the Greek and the Trojan leaders

Crowley can’t fault the Trojans for not surrendering though, all they’ve done is welcome home their prince and his wife (who he should maybe not have married, granted, but this is hardly an appropriate response, and they really were very much in love). And it’s not like the Trojans could very well leave the city with an enemy camped out on their doorstep.

Aziraphale did not fault the Greek leadership their anger, although he feels that this, the close to ten years that this siege has lasted… well. This is definitely too much.

Aziraphale once tried to miracle peace early on in the war. This was deemed too broad a miracle to perform and denied by Head Office. 

He had been about to try again with a more specific miracle that would lead to peace instead of cause it outright, when a cherub (the same cherub? Aziraphale always has difficulty telling the small ones apart) appears out of thin air, hands him a scroll containing a strong reprimand and a Cease and Desist order not to interfere again and disappears.

That night Aziraphale snuck into Troy and proceeded to get spectacularly drunk on Crowley’s couch.

/

The thing that ends it all- the siege, the war, this madness-, without any major (or suspiciously aimed-at-peace) miracles is Crowley’s idea. It is once again Aziraphale who delivers the idea to Odysseus (whom he hasn’t started liking any more than he already disliked him the first time they met).

Oh, the specifics are definitely still Odysseus, but the framework of the plan (pretend to leave the beach, sail from Troy and leave a few soldiers behind who can sneak into the city once they’ve lowered their guard.These soldiers could then hide inside the city until the Greeks return and end the ensuing battle quickly from the inside- that was Crowlyey’s plan. Of course, Odysseus needs to think the idea is his own, and not Aziraphale’s, or even someone else’s idea before that.

But something seems to have gotten lost in transmission- or Odysseus has a far more devious, far nastier and far bloodier mind than Crowley would have thought. It was MOST DEFINITELY NOT his plan to hide a lot of soldiers inside a wooden horse, make the Trojans destroy their own gate (really, Crowley has walked this earth for many centuries and that has GOT to be the stupidest thing he has ever seen anybody do).

Crowley really, REALLY would have liked to do this without any casualties. But humans seem so attached to making their already short lives even shorter that he has given up on this idea some millenia ago- shortly after It All started. After all, humanity was created in Her image, and She has never shied away from bloodshed and death.

Knowing this, and having had ten years to try and convince the relevant people otherwise, Crowley has accepted that it would probably come to bloodshed. Again. And yet, the humans never cease to surprise him.

Some of these surprises are good, Crowley ponders, wine cup in hand, they’ve invented some amazing things and look ready to invent even wilder, even more useful and sometimes even more useless things. Things you didn’t know you did not need, that only exist through marvels of science. He really ought to look into that- amazingly useless things seem a prime method for Tempting and Greed. Also there’s the boats. Big giant floating pieces of wood built into a sort-of steerable shape- provided the weather decides to cooperate. Boats have been around for a long time, but still he marvels at their simple ingenuity-

Crowley shakes his head, attempts to dislodge the train of thought. He is distracting himself and he knows it. Behind him, outside the tent, lies the city that was his home for the last ten years, and it’s tearing itself apart.

He’d have left the city by now if not for-

Crowley is not actually sure why not. For Helen? For Aziraphale down here in the Greek encampment?

Aziraphale seems to think it’s because he cares, a thought which stills makes Crowley sneer. Demons don’t care about humans- demons do not care about anything but themselves, and about avoiding the wrath of Below. No, Crowley could never care about these weird and ingenious humans that he lived alongside, in the city that was, for a short while, his home. Crowley has never cared about any humans a day in his life- perish the thought. He empties his cup and miracles the amphora of wine closer to pour himself more.

  
  


—

EPILOGUE

On the day when the ships finally leave for good Aziraphale and Crowley stand on the walls of Troy. They stand here in plain view of everyone in the city- yet no one remarks on these two strangers being in this strange place. Side by side they stand in silence.

Both are thinking of a different wall they once stood on, a time when they had high hopes for humanity, and fears for their fate. They have come to realize humanity does just fine on it’s own. They are not Good, per se, but not all of them are Bad, not by far. And the things they are willing to do for Love- somehow, this is both their best and worst side.

Two immortal beings stand on the walls of Troy as the sun rises over the empty bay. The War is over, and a new day dawns.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot happens in this story, but even more happens in the Iliad. You have undoubtedly noticed that I have excluded most of the middle of the war- some of it because it does not concern Crowley or Aziraphale.  
> However! If there are any parts of the story of Troy that you miss, let me know! I may.... be tempted........ to write them......... and post it as acoda to this fic.................
> 
> Let me know what you think via the comments or come and stalk me on tumblr, where I am also known as silver-colour!


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